


Peter Parker Oneshots

by boozedup



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Imagines, Injured Peter Parker, Marvel - Freeform, Mild Sexual Content, Peter Parker - Freeform, Smut, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boozedup/pseuds/boozedup
Summary: a series of oneshots about marvel’s own peter parkersend requests in through my tumblr, @/booozedup!includes mild sexual content





	1. Famous Last Words

"No," you murmur, eyes widening at the scene in front of you. 

"Peter!" You scream. He looks up at you, and you can tell he's grinning by the way his mask changes shape; but it's too late. You were too late. 

The gun fires. 

And multiple bullets hit Peter Parker square in the chest. 

He gasps and falls back onto the hard concrete. Crimson spatters the cement, flowing around his body in a gruesome halo; and an intense ringing fills your ears. Peter is bleeding. 

Why isn't anything changing? Why isn't the battle stopping? You desperately wish the guns would cease and the fighting would stop, but it comes to no avail. Peter has successfully lived his worst nightmare. Dying without purpose. 

"No!" you scream, heart pounding and veins circulating despair as you to sprint towards the boy. 

Bullets fly over your head and the battle still rages on. This young man that has a perfectly planned life to live is sprawled on some gray floor, wrapped in a pool of red. You don't understand. Why. How. 

You risk your life running across the battle. A few bullets have grazed your arms, though the injuries are minor; you're surprised as to why you're not dead yet. Another-worldly force, maybe; sickening enough to let you live long enough to watch your best friend die. 

Running through all the chaos and debris, you have finally reached the bloody halo. Peter's bloody body. 

"Oh no, Pete," you whisper, eyes fogging up with tears. You cover your mouth with your grimy hand, and it takes all of your willpower left not to break down right then and there. You cross over to him, and nervously take off his Spider-Man mask. Peter's brown eyes are open. But it's not right. 

They are staring unblinkingly. Glassed over. Lacking the excited energy they would so frequently hold. Not him. 

His eyes are gone. Completely gone. 

Peter's head is lolled back, rolling on a unhinged swivel; and small holes are pierced through his suit. The bullets. The blood. The overpowering feeling of loss. His eyes aren't alive anymore. 

You begin to dry heave on your tears. 

"C'mon Pete," You cry, choking out a sob. You gently shake his shoulders, hoping he would move; hoping he would spring up and fly back into action like he usually does, teasing you for getting so worked up at his prank. But he doesn't move. He doesn't even stir. 

Your eyes widen, a shaky breath escaping your dry lungs as you clasp a dirty hand over your mouth. Peter Parker is gone. 

A muffled scream erupts from your throat, tears clouding your vision you let out an agonized cry. They begin to fall freely. Tears start making tracks on your grimy checks, flowing in straight lines. You lay your body over top of your best friend, convulsing in rhythm with your cries. 

Your screaming attracts attention from the other Avengers. Natasha is the first to notice. 

Her eyes go wide, and she quickly finishes off her opponent with a single kick. The sight is enough to reduce anyone to tears. She sprints over in your direction. 

"Oh my god," she whispers, a sudden uptake of pure shock making her shake. "What in the in hell.." 

In a rush to figure out what is wrong, Natasha falls to her knees and inspects Peter's chest. It's all blood and exposed tissue. Her face pales and she reluctantly takes her hands off Peter's body. Her hands are covered in red. 

"I... He's... dead," Nat says quietly, her eyes noticeably starting to get glossy. 

Your eyes narrow. "W-what do you mean?" you cry out weakly, fearing that what she just said is true. But you know it's true. You just can't hear it. The confirmation will make things so much more difficult, and those words are something you desperately did not want to hear. 

Natasha glances at the sight of you. Completely broken. It tugs at her heart, really. 

She hesitantly yells for the other Avengers, trying not to startle you in your stage of grief. Tony Stark and the others get over to the scene as fast as electricity to a circuit. 

But when Tony arrives, that's when the atmosphere changes drastically. 

The throws off his helmet and rushes over to the boy, his face rapidly losing its colour. "Oh no, no no no," He panics quietly, eyes wide as he scans Peter. 

The day you were planning on seeing Tony Stark cry was not today. But the universe did not want things to go your way today. 

Silent tears steamed down the older man's cheeks. He did not make a sound, but the plain sight of his pain was enough. 

The Avengers stay quiet. 

You can't stand the silence.

And that's when you break down. 

Because Peter Parker never had any last words.


	2. Hipbones and Confessions

"Peter Parker, I will personally take it upon myself to cut your dick off if you do that again."

"But then we wouldn't have anymore fun!" Peter whines, smirking a little as he brings his warm hands up to cup your pink cheeks. "I was having a good time."

On any other normal night (preferably not 3 am on a Friday, though), your activities were usually interrupted by a knock to your open window as Spider-Man climbed into your bedroom, uninvited. You were never unhappy with Peter Parker’s presence— but on this night specifically, he might've happened to just have fallen through the window. Right after getting terribly beaten up. It was a whole ordeal in itself, really— but the problem kind of figured itself out. Kind of. Young adult minds can find... separate, per say, and creative ways of ‘healing.’

Raising a challenging brow, you smack Peter's hands away from your cheeks as a soft laugh fell from your lips. But as soon as you push them away, though, his hands clamber back up your body again and did what? Pinch your bare hip.

You groan loudly, covering your partially smiling face with your hands.

"I swear to God, Parker."

Seeing his eager grin as he blithely pried your fingers from your face, you blissfully bite your lip. He’s so immature. You love it.

"Can you tell me why you're nearly naked again?" Peter questions nonchalantly (earning a swift hit to the arm), lifting his eyebrows casually as his hands teasingly roam all around your lower body. He pinches your hip again.

"Peter!" You whine, swatting his hands away from you with a frown. It was normal, actually, for Peter to find joy in making you slightly worked up. You know he was teasing and it never minded you much, but you figure you should've been used to it by now anyway. But then again, his behaviour is awfully endearing.

Peter grins toothily. Pressing a feathery kiss to your forehead as he situates himself over top of you, ungracefully throwing his arms over your head, holding himself up— before saying something you were not expecting. At all.

"Now that's it, Y/N!” He encourages happily, “That's what you sounded like last night, except much, much louder."

You scoff, followed by a barely choked out laugh—

**_(Not gonna lie, it_ was _really good last night_ _though—)_**

— "Really?" you tease, flicking his forehead with your fingers (eliciting a small 'ow'), "That's probably why I'm naked, you fucking idiot."

Peter leans down, kissing your neck. "Yeah, probably," he hums, words muffled by your soft skin, as he teasingly licks a stripe up the side of your bruised and bitten (courtesy of Peter Parker) neck.

This fucking man.

You groan in annoyance again, accidentally making a slightly obscene noise that would definitely lead unknowing people into thinking there was something going on that definitely wasn’t.

You tug on his messy hair with slight frown. “Peter!”

"Shit, why do we keep having recaps of last night?"

You utter a small scream against Peter's bare shoulder. He wasn’t usually like this. You’re not gonna sugarcoat it, but the mind-blowing ‘I just thought you died don’t ever do that again’ sex was amazing, if not even more so. It tended to make him act out, and you knew that from first-hand experience. Unfortunately.

Gritting your teeth as you bite lightly into his shoulder, you mutter, "You're an asshole, Parker."

The playful banter continues. And Peter whole-heartedly ignored your protests that begged him to stop teasing. It was something that you were very used to and something that tended to go on for a long time. It was gruelling and maybe a little annoying, but, it gave you more time to look at him.

Study him.

The way the soft glow of your bedside lamp streams comfortably into his brown hair. How the gentle lighting illuminates his prominent cheekbones deliciously. Pieces of his thick locks sitting up and curling and sticking out haphazardly. How he slightly sticks his tongue out as he thought of a way to reply to your witty remark, and the goofy grin that came afterwards. The clear bruises on his defined chest, shoulder, and abdomen— giving him character only Peter Parker could have. Queens’ city street-lights shining into his brown eyes makes them appear more in-depth and crystalline. They gleam with small hints of green and blue.

A genuine smile meets your raw and softly kissed lips. Bringing your hands up to Peter's messy hair and weaving your fingers through it, shakily exhaling, you lean up and gently kiss his forehead. You slowly run your fingers down the centre of his muscular chest and kiss it.

“What, do I have something on my face?" Peter whispers curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side with that childlike wonder you adored.

"No," you say bemusedly, intertwining your bare legs together and gently placing your forehead against his. Peter smiles softly. He wraps a bruised arm around your waist and pulls you closer, lightly kissing your forehead.

It was days like this that you loved. Basking in each other's silence and warmth. No awkwardness and no interruptions.

You hum contently into Peter's neck, nuzzling closer to him and inhaling his scent: an intoxicating smoke and pine. He reaches an arm out over your side, grazing it gingerly, before tracing small patterns into your back.

“You know," he begins loftily, "you change emotions an awful lot for a woman who isn't pregnant." He smiles a little, clearly thinking, before he frowns. “Hopefully, actually..." he mutters, though that is more of a mental note to himself than to you.

You snort.

"Yeah?" You sit up and place the side of your head in your hands, smirking a little. Pieces of hair fall into your eyes.

"Yeah," Peter replies, gazing into your E/C with the same expression.

All of a sudden, he stares at you a little more intensely, biting his lip in a certain emotion you can’t quite place.

You frown. Beginning to feel a bit self-conscious, you cover up your body.

"W-what?" You stammer, absentmindedly furrowing your eyebrows as you brought a hand up to hold his muscular shoulders.

"I-I, uh... I love you, you know?" Peter says quietly, gazing at you in his childish adoration as a coloured blush creeps up onto his bruised cheeks. The amount of colour on his face increases immensely as time goes by, even more so than it initially was when as he whispered those three words.

You could definitely tell he wanted to look away. He wanted to break the strong connection he initiated between the pair of eyes, he wanted to apologize profusely like he did so often when he was younger, and he wanted to hide in his room, running away and building up fear from the non-existing embarrassment. 

But he didn’t.

Peter stays.

Your gaze softens. On the inside, you were screaming—

**_(Fuck I finally got him to admit it—)_ **

— and on the outside, you were just... trying not to melt from the tension and uncertainty radiating off the boy in front of you. Because damn, Peter Benjamin Parker was going to be the death of you.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you kiss his forehead, smiling profusely. “I- I know, Pete.” You gently rested your forehead against his.

Peter leans into your touch. Crinkling his eyes shut, focusing as much as humanly possible on you and only you, tears welling in his eyes as he murmured sweet nothings, though he’s not even sure why—

**_(What the hell am I doing—)_ **

—you are the absolute only thing in his world. You are his absolute favourite thing. Forget Spider-Man. Forget the crime happening just meters from your window. It was only you. 

"And I- uh, I love you too, Pete. I love you so, so much.” 

Peter's eyes widen and he looks like he’s going to pass out— before he sighs gratefully and collapses over top of your small body. Peppering your face with small kisses, drawing out little laughs and noises from the girl he loves, he thought—

**_(It can’t get better than this, fuck—)_ **

"Thank God," he breathes, letting out a breath that he has been holding unconsciously the entire time. Letting out a rich laugh, gazing at Peter lovingly, a handful of new and raw emotions surged through the both of you.

The lovey dovey couple sitting on a shitty dorm room bed, practically naked save for a pair of boxers and a bra, covered in bruises and love-bites and unsolicited sore muscles, were completely infatuated with each other.

They were filled with adoration.

Love.

It was a moment.

A wonderful moment you would never forget for as long as you live.

Well, before Peter ruined it.

By pinching your hip.

Again.

“Peter Parker, I swear to God-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff !!

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to request stuff at my tumblr, @/booozedup !  
> i’ll write whatever :)


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